Noble Customs
by Octavia Delitian
Summary: Oneshot about what happened to Durnik in the court of Sendar in Pawn of Prophecy to make him threaten to drown a page. Not like him at all XD


Disclaimer: This is a so called "missing scene". It does not mean that the scene should have been there, or that I'm trying to infringe on Mr Edding's copyright. I'm merely speculating, with no claim on what is truth or not.

Noble Customs

In the court of Sendar

Durnik tugged his hand free from the grip of a snivelling page, not much older than Garion, and looked back at the others. They were gone. He was led through a wide hall. The floor was made of polished grey tiles, covered with patterned rugs of colours he had only seen in flowers before - never on fabric. He tried not to walk on them, as his boots were dirty, but the page shot him strange glances when he did so. Blushing, the smith tried not to think about where he put his feet. He looked at the walls instead and passed many tapestries and paintings of old royalties with bad teeth and pointy noses.

Finally they stopped at a heavy, lacquered door and he was shown inside. In the middle of the room was a steaming bathtub He was relieved that they would let him bath, for he knew he needed to, but why? It was not as if he was important enough to meet the king, after all. He had no clean clothes either, so a bath would not help much. While he pondered over this, the door closed shut behind him and the page tapped his shoulder with an arrogant look on his face. There was no doubt he had already judged the smith to be a stupid peasant.

"Sit down." The page patted a simple stool impatiently. Durnik frowned, but complied, and page immediately started to pull off his boots.

"Wait, I'll do that," Durnik said. Nobody had helped him get his boots off since he was five, except for one time when he had sprained his ancle so bad his foot stuck from the swelling and they had to cut it free. The page ignored him and carried off with his boots for cleaning. When he came back Durnik stood up once again. "I'd appreciate some privacy," he said, but the moment after the page was unbuttoning his tunic. After a brief period of shock, the smith pushed away the page, who stared incredulously at the older man.

"If you please, Goodman..."

"It does NOT please me!" Durnik hissed. "I can undress myself. Go away." The page snorted and left the room. Durnik would have barricaded the door somehow if it had not opened in the wrong direction. Constantly listening for sounds, he jumped out of his clothes and sank down into the tub. A layer of foam formed a welcome barrier in case someone came in. Seconds later the page returned only to steal Durnik's clothes, which lay neatly folded on the stool. He could not rise out of the tub and chase him down - there could be ladies around - so all he could do was yell, and be ignored once more. Durnik shook his head, hot with rage, and started to wash himself off.

The page returned with a pile of red fabric, glittering with gold, and dropped it on a table. Then he emptied a pitcher of water over Durnik's head and attempted to wash his hair.

"Stand back! What part of 'I'd appreciate some privacy' don't you understand?"

"It is custom to..."

"I don't share the customs of the noble folk. Bugger off or I'll drown you!" He said this with enough force for the page to understand he meant what he said. The boy backed off slowly to the door, trying to look collected but the paleness betrayed him. As soon as the door shut Durnik heard running footsteps.

When he was clean and dry, he gave the new clothes a doubtful look. They went on, though they did not fit his frame too well. He inspected the result in a huge stand mirror before sneaking out into the corridor. He found his way back and joined the rest of the group, who were still waiting for Mistress Pol and Wolf. Durnik felt a bit better noticing Garion wore similar clothes and when Wolf emerged, wearing a snow white robe with a deep cowl while spitting lightning, he smiled. Then Mistress Pol came,and everything else was forgotten. He tried not to ogle her. Silk had commented about the last time.

"You look great," Mistress Pol said and patted his arm. "Red suits you."

Durnik smiled sheepishly.


End file.
